


Bed and Breakfarts

by BoringMacaroni



Category: Original Work
Genre: (and a bit more), Brotherly Love, Eproctophilia, Fart Fetish, Farting, Flatulence, Gassy Guy, Male Farting, Male Gas, Morning Thunder, Other, Scat, Shit, Stomach Ache, Stomach Rubbing, farting fetish, gas fetish, poop, upset stomach
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-25
Updated: 2019-05-25
Packaged: 2020-03-17 08:37:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18961708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BoringMacaroni/pseuds/BoringMacaroni
Summary: Look, I never said my titles would be good. More literal shits and giggles with these two goofballs.





	Bed and Breakfarts

Rodrik's face contorted. There was something uncomfortable rousing him from his much-needed rest, and he buried his face into his feathery pillow to try and escape the pesky sensation.

_Zzzzzz..._

The elf's nose wrinkled. That hadn't helped. If anything, it had made it even worse. He sniffed, taking in a stale, earthy scent, and something that faintly resembled shampoo. His arms wrapped even tighter around the cushion by his side, relishing in the heat it provided. His fingers spread out across its surface, trailing down smooth, damp skin...

Wait,  _what?_

"Eugh!"

Rodrik awoke with a start, quickly shaking his hair out of his one good eye. As it adjusted to the low light of the room, he saw that there was neither a pillow nor a cushion in sight. Instead, there was his sweaty half-breed roommate, who he had appeared to have been spooning. He could see where Shep's sandy blonde curls had been flattened by his face.

It had been a dreadfully humid night, so neither of them were wearing very many layers. The elf lowered his chin and sniffed himself. Yes, there was a distinctly troll-ish musk to his pale skin. He and Shep must've been embracing for a while.

"Great," Rodrik groaned. Shep responded with a noisy snore.

He rolled over to his side of the bed, muscles still smarting from the weekend's antics. They had attempted to hustle a store owner in the neighbouring village, only to be caught and consequently sent on a wild goose chase. Pursued by the village's unusually dedicated guards all throughout the night, the boys eventually lost the group in a forest that bordered an even smaller village; more of a hamlet than anything else. 

They had just enough money leftover to seek refuge in one of the handful of bed and breakfasts. Of course, like with everything they ever did, it had proven more difficult than anticipated. Rodrik had forgotten about the widespread no-troll policy. One establishment finally accepted the offer of double the price he usually charged for a two night stay. With their luck, it had to be the most run-down and unpopular of all the hotels, but it was better than camping and leaving themselves vulnerable to being attacked.

The room was shabby at best, grotesque at worst... so naturally Shep found it very homely. His only complaint was that the chamber pot wasn't big enough. That had been Rodrik's main complaint too, after he had to help Shep clean up the soiled floor. The pot could've been the size of a bathtub, and it still wouldn't be capable of containing the hybrid's never-ending supply of turds. He honestly wasn't sure he had gotten it all out from underneath his fingernails.

Groggy with too much sleep, Rodrik pulled himself out of bed. He stumbled forward and found his shirt hanging over the only chair in the room (but no desk or table, because why did things need to make sense anyway?) After a cursory sniff, he decided it would be fine to wear until they could do laundry.

He surveyed their temporary living-space, his gaze eventually falling on the window. There wasn't much to be seen past the layer of grime that coated the glass, but he could tell that it was a nice enough afternoon. Cloudy, but with promising streaks of blue. Maybe he and Shep could take a stroll later on. Try and figure out whether this place was worth exploring or not. 

_Gggggggrrrrrooorrrggg..._

Speaking of Shep - as Rodrik toured the room, the half-breed’s rumbling intestines sounded their warning. It wasn't normally a cause for alarm (after spending so long traveling with him, one became more acquainted than they'd prefer with Shep’s highly unpleasant flatulence), but Rodrik’s mind conjured up all-too-recent memories of the previous morning. The B&B's owner had threatened eviction if such events were repeated, and they were in no position to take the warning lightly. 

The thinning, dusty sheet was lifted as Shep lifted a leg, preparing to fill the room with a cloud of his poisonous fumes. Rodrik climbed on top of the bed and pushed it back down.

"Huh?" Shep mumbled, stirring from his sleep. "What're-"

Wordlessly, Rodrik wrapped his arms around a shoulder and a torso and began to drag the flatulent boy out from his warm, smelly nest. Shep shook his head vigorously, hitting the elf in the face with his abundance of wild curls.

"Hey! What's goin' on 'ere? Are those arseholes back again?"

"No-” Rodrik pulled sharply, hearing the hybrid’s feet thump against the ground. “But your morning thunder is!"

He helped Shep to steady himself. The hot, swirling gas caused Shep’s belly to emit a threatening roar, and the half-breed paused for a moment, familiarising himself with the pain.

"Oi, you're telling me..." He grimaced and laid a clawed hand upon his aching middle. "In hindsight, I don't think that rabbit curry was a very good idea."

"And yet I seem to recall  _you_  being the one who insisted you could handle it," Rodrik pointed out, now standing beside the window. Shep rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, watching the elf fumble with the handles. They were in desperate need of being greased. After some straining, the lock inside turned and made a clicking noise, and the window opened, bringing in a refreshing breeze.

Rodrik inhaled a huge breath. With Shep by his side, and often upwind of him, he never knew when he'd get a chance to do it again. 

"We've already had our first eviction notice. Another strike and we're out." He sucked in again, letting the crisp air slowly fill up his lungs. "Nowhere else was willing to take you, remember?"

Shep's stomach gurgled dangerously. "It’s ‘ardly _my_  fault this place is full'a speciests," he grumbled. 

"No, but it is your fault that this entire building smelled like ogre vomit yesterday."

While wrestling with the other handle, Rodrik gestured toward the air conditioning vent in the corner of the room. Shep's after-dinner blasts had accidentally been transferred down the pipe, releasing his ill wind into every single room in the building, much to the horror of the other occupants.

Shep scratched under his armpit and shrugged.

"I don't get this man's priorities," he remarked. "He ain't installed a working toilet, but he's got air conditioning? What is that about?"

_Gggggooouurrrg!_

"Maybe he knew you were coming. Gotcha!" 

The other lock unsealed. With the window fully opened, Rodrik patted the sill invitingly. Shep trundled over, eyeing the old wooden shelf with a certain degree of uncertainty. He tested it with his hand. 

"Think it'll take it? Looks weak to me,” he said. 

"Much like myself and every other thing with functional nostrils, it doesn't have much choice,” Rodrik replied.

"I meant my weight."

Rodrik studied the hybrid. Shep was slim and quietly muscular; heavy but not excessively. He nodded his approval.

With a sigh, Shep planted his shapely buttocks on the sill, wriggling his ass and spreading his legs until he found a position that was both comfortable and offered a wide enough space for his powerful emissions to pass through. Rodrik brushed some debris out of the hybrid's hair.

"Ready, thunderbutt?"

Shep gave him a tired thumbs up. The elf placed one hand on the wall above Shep's head, and the other on his companion's gas-loaded abdomen. He started to rub.

Almost instantly, the expression on Shep’s face softened. His back curved into a shy arch. He felt his roiling insides begin to settle, lulled by a wave of smoothness. As his bowels were soothed, his sphincter relaxed.

_Pprrfffrrrrrrtt!_

Shep let out a lazy fart. His lips parted with a pleasant sigh as he felt the air escape him, in which Rodrik got a face full of his morning halitosis. Nose wrinkled, the elf raised a brow.

"You feeling alright? That wasn’t very impressive."

"Just warming up, my man," Shep grinned. With a low growl, something shifted in his intestines. He tensed, preparing for the oncoming explosion.

With a giggle, the half-breed extended a finger.

"Oh, you are such a child," Rodrik rolled his eyes. Nonetheless, he gave it a reluctant tug.

BBBBLLRRRRRRFFFRRRPPPPRRVVRRRT!

A forceful gust of noisy flatulence rushed out of Shep's backside. His claws dug into the old wood, helping him to rip the brawny fart. The thunderous torrent lasted for thirteen unholy seconds before it faded out again.

"There it is," Rodrik muttered with a smirk, though it was soon wiped off his face by the foul, distinctly spicy stench. "Oh, Shep! That's... eww.."

Shep gave him a toothy grin, leaning to the side to raise a cheek. He grunted and a meaty bubble spluttered out.

"Nasty, ain't it? If only them guards were here now. That'd show 'em!"

Despite his ass pointing outside, the inside of their room still caught the back-drift of his pungent produce. Rodrik coughed and waved a hand in front of his face.

"Gods above, you're going to peel the paint off the walls."

"I dunno if you forgot, mate, but you're the enabler here," Shep gestured to the hand that was still massaging his bulging stomach. Rodrik rolled his eyes and gave a mighty push, causing Shep to yelp, let out a terrified poot, and hang on desperately to the sides of the window.

"You fuckin'-! I could've fell!"

Rodrik fingernails gently scratched against Shep's scalp. The troll’s furrowed brows smoothed out, and within seconds he was placated. His eyes closed over comfortably. 

 _Guess I'm forgiven,_  thought Rodrik with a smile.

The elf’s hand continued to rub side to side on the hybrid's tummy, helping him to unleash a continuous stream of hot, brassy farts. Shep's toes curled in relief as he felt his cramps start to subside.

"Faster," he murmured sleepily. Rodrik picked up the pace, and Shep's comforted smile deepened as his flatulence grew louder, more relieving, and unfortunately even smellier.

"Those poor birds," Rodrik shook his head.

"I reckon we should take a moment of silence for them," Shep said.

...

_Bbbblaaarrrrpttt!_

"That was not a moment."

"It's the thought that counts, Rod."

Rodrik snorted. His legs were starting to hurt from standing for so long. If Shep had more left in the tank, he wanted to get rid of it sooner than later. 

He swiftly guided his hand back and forth across the other’s stomach. Shep's ass responded accordingly, cutting thick rippers every couple of seconds, with only the hybrid's pleasured moans and sighs filling the pauses between them. This went on for several minutes, until the pressure in Shep's bowels took a turn for the worse.

His eyes popped open. He suddenly had that...  _special_  feeling.

"Wait, Rodrik!”

“I’m almost done.”

“But I think I’m going to- wait, wait-!"

_PRRRRRMMFFRRRpppp-squish!_

Rodrik halted, but it was too late. Something moist exploded out of Shep’s butthole, shooting wet faeces all over the seat of the half-breed's boxers. 

"Oh, for pixie’s sake!" Shep snarled. 

Rodrik doubled over in laughter. Shep threw him a sharp look.

"It's not funny, mate, that was my last clean pair! I told you to stop."

"Just as well we're doing laundry today," Rodrik replied as he wiped the tears from his eyes. "And just in case you forgot, I am not cleaning your stuff."

Shep carefully lifted himself from the miraculously-not-stained window sill and waddled over to the chamber pot. His stomach was churning in an urgent manner. Just as he pulled down his shorts, a stream of liquid diarrhea fell from between his pale green buttocks and hit the pot with a sickly splash. 

“Ooogh...” Shep whined. His stomach gurgled and a blubbery fart caused an eruption of loose faeces. The turds drummed against the bottom of the pot. He rubbed his gut, but it just wasn't the same. Rodrik had the magic touch.

"Unsurprisingly, we're out of toilet paper." Rodrik stepped into his shoes and fastened the laces. "I'll go see if I can fetch you some. Don't even think about using one of my shirts, mongrel."

"Naw, I was gonna use one of your face towels," Shep smirked, then whimpered as more scat explosively evacuated his hole. Rabbits. So cute, yet so deadly!

Rodrik shut the door behind him. And there Shep sat, defecating in relative peace. It was difficult to make out the sounds of clinking armor and unsheathing swords above the chorus of his violent flatulence, but Shep's ears picked up on it anyway.

"But they must be here," a rough voice grumbled. "Where else would they go?”

The elfin guards let out a chorus of groans as they were assaulted with the residue of the hybrid’s gastrointestinal episode.

“Oh, P.U! What’s that stink?”

"If that ain't that half-breed freak, then sum’mit's died 'ere!” 

Shep’s chest tightened. How were they supposed to get out of the B&B without being noticed? And if they did, where would they go? Neither her nor Rodrik were familiar with this territory, and being part troll, it was unlikely anyone would be willing to help them...

All of a sudden, Shep’s face donned his characteristic countenance. A seed - a devilish, repugnant little seed had planted in his brain, and sprouted an equally disgusting idea. Smirking mischievously, he squeezed out the last of his runs, then stood up, deciding to use his stained boxers to wipe himself. 

As the guards complained outside, he carefully carried the pot toward the window. The lake of watery faeces sloshed around inside. Hey, Rodrik had told him to clean up after himself, right? This was one way of doing it.

Cautiously, he peered out of the window. The group were positioned perfectly below him. Oh, if only Rod were here to watch...

"Oi! Fellas?"

The group looked around them in confusion. Shep waved.

“Up ‘ere!”

"There he is!" There was always someone who had to point out the obvious. In this case, it was the smallest and youngest of the guards. “There’s the guy that farted in Axel's face!”

“Just _had_  to bring it up, huh Kylie?”

The captain squinted, using his hand as a visor from the sun. "Hang on,” he warned, “he’s holding something."

“Yeah, it looks like a... wait....”

"You're a bit late for breakfast, but lucky for you, we've got some leftovers," Shep shouted, grinning from ear to pointed ear. 

"Oh no," Kylie squeaked.

The half-breed lifted the pot perilously into the air. His lips spread in a wicked grin.

"Hope ya like rabbit, boys!"


End file.
